Reasons to Kick Men in Their Junk

I was in bed the other night, struggling to keep my eyes open when my phone started ringing; that’s never a good sign, I am a text person. I looked at the phone and saw Hope’s name, then notice it was only 11 o’clock; I knew she had a date with her......I’m going to call him her boyfriend because it’s easier than trying to explain their actual relationship, so I was little worried why she was calling.

When I picked up all I could hear is her crying, knowing I had no hope of understanding a word of it over the phone I asked her if she was home, I assumed she said yes  (I really couldn’t understand a word she was saying) so I told her I’d be right over. Luckily she lives pretty close so I put on my dressing grown and pink fluffy slipper boots and walked around.

When I got there she was face down on the coach still crying, I sat on the edge of the couch and she didn’t react to me being there. I’ve said this many times but this is my friendship specialty so I know from experience that's a bad sign, normally people sit up, hug you and make your shoulder all wet. Luckily I have a trick to fix this, so I walked into her kitchen and took a bottle of wine (if you can call Lambrini wine) out of the fridge, sat down on the floor next to the couch, opened the bottle and offered it to her (this isn’t the time for glasses). She sat up and took the bottle from me.

After most of the bottle was gone, and most the tears stopped I asked her what happened.  She down the rest of the bottle, got up and got another one, came back and told me the story. Her and Platypus (he’s Australian and a mammal so why not) had gone out and after dinner they went for a drive, they parked somewhere quiet and one thing led to another and they didn’t have sex but a.....hmmm...how to put it....hmmmm......a DNA handshake happened.

When all that was finished they were talking and he casually mentioned he was tired because the night before he had a date and that women didn’t leave his place until he left to pick up Hope. I’m not sure how but Hope kept her cool and told Platypus to drive her home. Once she got in she lost it and called me.

I then took the wine from her and had some myself, because sober isn’t the answer to that problem. We processed to get trashed and talk shit about Platypus. I then asked her how she managed not to kick him in the balls, after hearing that.  She said she was raised that there is never a valid reason to kick a man in his privates. I looked her in the eyes and said “honey, that's bullshit. And a guy being a dick to you while there are still remnants of his cum on your person is just ONE of the many valid reasons to kick a guy in his junk”.  We then continued to drink and crack jokes at Platypus’s expense until the wee hours of the morning, when she fell asleep and I walked home getting many strange looks for people walking their dogs.

So I have to ask; what other valid reasons can you think of to kick a man in his junk? Let me hear them in the comment box below. And as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxo

Little Voice

People always say you should listen to that little voice in your head; the problem I have is that little voice in my head, is a bitch! And not just your average bitch she’s a super bitch, I actually call her Bitchany.

Take today for example; I received a phone call saying that I didn’t get the job I interviewed for yesterday because “the interviewer felt my answers, though good, could have been expanded upon more”. 

The little voice in my head wanted me to tell the man on the phone the interviewer is an idiot! The job was for a call centre, tracking the location of people’s packages; who in their right mind wants a long winded person on the other end of the phone when all they want to know is where their god damn package is?!? I made the choice to answer her questions in the most efficient way I could, making sure to give her the information she asked for but in a way that didn’t wastes anyone’s time, after all it’s not story time at the fucking library. I was being considerate, unlike those assholes that had me sit around 2 fucking hours in-between interviews. I was there almost 5 hours yesterday. I could have flown to Canada in that fucking time.

Of course, despite wanting to, I didn’t say any of that to the man on the phone, I may have a bitch in my head but I also have the world’s best flitter between it and my mouth so I just told him I understood and thanked him for taking the time to call me. Before hanging up he asked if he could pass my details on to some other employers because despite the fact “Jane” didn’t like me, he did and he thought there might be some other jobs I’d be perfect for.  So who knows maybe yesterday wasn’t a total waste after all.

Anyways moral of the story; people who make up sayings like “always listen to that little voice in your head” don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.........Oh and Jane from DHL is a fucking idiot.

What name have you given that little voice in your head, and what kind of personality does it have? Let me know in the comment box below and as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch

xoxoxo

Written Snapshot

I was having a conversation with the guy I declared dead a few blogs ago, that’s right he’s alive....or a zombie, either way I was having a conversation with Zombie Man and he said something intriguing. He said he enjoys reading my blogs because he likes learning what makes me tick. In that same conversation he also made a comment about me having some “strong points of view” and all that got me thinking about the random comments I get on blogs that I wrote years ago.

Now I’m not going to deny having a strong point of view, anyone who has read any of my blogs can tell you that, it’s a common blogger trait however like most bloggers those views change, sometimes over a long period of time with the input of new information or other time it just takes me pressing the publish button.   

A blog is like a written snapshot; what you read is that person's outlook at that exact second in their life. 10 seconds later everything may have changed. That doesn’t make what you’re reading any less valid, that’s just life. And I think it’s hard for a lot of readers to understand that.

And as a blogger it’s hard to find people that understand that. I will always take my imaginary hat off to Mr. X, I have called that man every name in the book and I think I even made up a few and he doesn’t react to it. He understands the blogging thing. That said, he should understand it because he’s also a blogger.

I find it tedious to deal with comments on blogs that are years old because I’m no longer in that mind space, and in some cases I just don’t care anymore, I obviously cared at some point however now I’m older, wiser (maybe) and those topics, worries and thoughts have been replaced with new ones that are more recent in memory.

As for Zombie Man I am sure there is a lot to be learned about me from my blog, however how much of it is still valid and makes sense outside my crazy head is up for debate.

Let me leave you with this question, is it possible to find that “snapshot” understanding with someone who isn’t a blogger? Let me know in the comment box below and as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxo

The Great Escape

I escaped and sadly there was no pink bus, or pink train or pink plane involved, actually I was involved very little in the actual escape.....so maybe the title should be “I’ve been freed!”

What actually happened is I had a conversation with the job centre and the woman was asking about my hours and what I had been doing at this place. I told her I was working 9am to 5pm, Monday to Friday and that I hadn’t been doing much, apart from typing some stuff up word for word. When she heard that she was instantly unhappy. I thought I was unhappy she raised the bar.

She then asked me to speak to a manager who asked me the same questions and she wasn’t happy either, she was also a little frustrated by the fact the company I was working for and the company on their records wasn't the same. She then passed me on to another guy, who took some details and explained to me what they were told I’d be doing and what I was actually doing weren’t in line so he was pulling me from the placement, I wasn’t to go back and he’d deal with them. My hero J Shame he wasn’t wearing pink.

I’m strangely in two minds about this; I hated the “job” with a passion. I was pretty much doing busy work the whole time and there wasn’t even much of that to do. I enjoy being busy at work, a love a challenge, I love dealing with people, that’s why I’ve done so well in my past jobs. But this job has been the complete opposite. And in all honesty it was slowly destroying my soul....If I have one.....it may have been removed to make room for more sarcasm.

But on the other hand, I loved the people, they were fantastic. They were all creative which is always a huge bonus, we had acting, music, photography, throw in my writing and we had it all pretty much covered. They were an awesome group of people. (And I’m not just saying that because they may or may not be reading my blog)

Even the managers weren’t bad; they all seemed nice and approachable. My problem was purely the job or lack thereof.

I’m going to miss the people; the job on the other hand can suck my.......big toe. And then pay me £1000 because apparently that’s the going rate (never job search on Craigslist).

Since there isn’t really a question in this blog, let me know the strangest thing you’ve come across on
Craigslist. And as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch
xoxoxo

When the fuck did I become an adult?

I recently had one of those scary “when the fuck did I become an adult?” moments and yes, I am aware I am now 26 years old and by law I’ve been an adult for many years but it’s scary when your brain starts behaving like an adult without any conscious effort. I am worried "adult" is becoming my brains default setting and I’m not ready for that.

Just the thought gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Here’s what happened; I was having a Facebook conversation with a friend about Nashville or to be exact about how she needed to hurry and watch the damn finale, when somehow the conversation took a serious turn into current events.  I won’t go into too many details because this isn’t the place for serious talk and I’m sure as hell not the person for it

Me and my friend were going back and forth agreeing on some things, disagreeing on others, just having an honest debate nothing malicious or personal. After we both made our points and came to an understanding she said something that gave me that “when the fuck did I become an adult moment?”

She said “See I can talk to you. You agree, disagree, show another side, more information, where others just go NO, THIS IS RIGHT, YOUR WRONG.”

After she said that I just sat there thinking “when the fuck did that happen? “I mean there are still some topics where I’m all “I’m right, end of” equality is the one that comes to mind. There is no valid argument against equality as far as I’m concerned. But I remember a time where I was like that with most things but now I’m interested in both sides. I want to have a full understanding, even if I don’t agree with it.

My brain is becoming an adult and I don’t like it, what if all the crazy in there becomes logical? I can’t do normal. I don’t like normal. Pandas don’t ride around on roller-skate eating cotton candy in normal brains.

What was your first “when the fuck did I become an adult?” moment? Let me know in the comment box below and as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

 xoxo

Spacious Prison Cell

Some jobs can be horrible but the people make it fantastic, other jobs are fantastic but the people make it unbearable.... then you have my job.

This week I started 4 weeks of unpaid work in an attempt to beef up my CV or at the very least skim over the reason I left my last job. The second I say “I hurt my back” and that’s why I left, the person interviewing me goes all non-hirey. It’s like a bad magic trick, it makes jobs disappear.

My hope is by doing this work I can show my back wouldn’t be a problem for any future employer. That’s a lie but they can’t argue with proof. The fact it’s taking a large amount of pills (they’re prescription, don’t worry) and biofreeze to make it through the day is between you and me.

The problem is this proof/job is.......well....let me tell you about it. The first 3 days, I sat alone in a large empty blue room looking out a window wondering if I jumped would I be hurt bad enough to go home....my conclusion was no, no I wouldn’t. I didn’t have any actual work to do. On day 1 I was told to research something, which took me all of 2 hours to do. And that was that for 3 days.

Day 4 things appeared in the room so now I was alone in a large blue room not a large empty blue room and I was given some actual work to do. I was given a large pink folder and told to copy everything out word for word. Not my idea of a fun time but it was something to do. However I was still all alone.

Actually that’s not 100% true; they’re other people who work there and they’re awesome and super funny but they work on the ground floor, the second floor (if you can call it that) is the managers and then you have me, freaking Ann Frank, in what feels like an attic or as I call it a spacious jail cell.

But thankfully the lovely ground floor people have made a point to come visit me in my cell so I don’t go mad from the silence but for the most part my cell is still a very lonely place.

Day 5 I continued with the word for word typing and came up with a new escape plan, since jumping was clearly never going to work. There is this pink bus that comes by so I decided I could jump, land on the bus hold on for dear life and ride off into the wild grey yonder (the job is in town, its concrete for as far as the eye can see)

Just for the record I am aware there’s a door I could use but....where’s the fun in that?

Luckily Monday is bank holiday so I only have 14 working days left before I’m freed from my cell. Not that I’m counting or anything......There’s an app for that J

So if you were me what creative means of escape would you use? Let me know in the comment box below and who know, maybe I’ll use one of them. As always my dears stay and escape prison safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxoxo

The Grinch Who Stole My 21st Birthday

It’s my birthday! Or as I call it the anniversary of the day I knocked my ex-boyfriend out cold. I wrote a blog a long time ago, August 2011 to be exact, about it and over the years something interesting has happen with that post, it’s accumulated just under 50,000 views. By far my most read blog of all time. It’s horrifying and makes me really wish I had done a better job writing it. So since it’s the 5 year anniversary of that event I thought I’d take another swing (pun intended) at writing it.

Let me start by telling you a little about the Grinch; The Grinch was a 27 year old personal trainer and regular in my local pub. The fact he drank in that place should have been my first warning sign but sadly it wasn’t.

We had been swapping flirty eyes for months when New Year’s Eve rolled around and since I was a wee bit intoxicated (it was New Year’s Eve after all) I decided screw it and make the first move. We ended up having a fantastic time and exchanged numbers at the end of the night.

The Grinch was a real slow mover, we texted all the time and chatted but things were going nowhere. Then after a huge push from some friends, we somehow ended up in a relationship not long after Valentine’s Day.

It was never a happy relationship, that dude had more issues than Playboy. Issues he did a fantastic job of hiding until I had and everyone knew I had that “girlfriend” title.  He had a massive problem knowing when to stop drinking and I later found out he had a drug problem too. Which would have been an instant deal breaker had I known.

I remember one night he called me up begging me to come get him, I reluctantly agreed to come and take him home. I get him to his place and he wouldn’t get out of my car. I pushed him, pulled him, hell I even kicked him and he wasn’t moving. After 40 minutes of this shit I had him half way out of my car. Then out of nowhere he looks at me, laughs, gets back in and shuts the car door. That man is lucky I didn’t kill him right then and there. I decided fuck it and drove home to let him sleep it off in my car.

3 hours later I’m a sleep in my bed when I hear noises at my door, I get up to see what the hell is happening only to discover the Grinch trying to get in my house with his keys. I was fuming but let him in since I didn’t really have any other choose. I gave him my bed and slept on the couch. I was ready to dump his sorry ass right there but stupidly listened to my friends and gave him one more chance instead. (Needless to say I’m no longer friends with those people.)

A few weeks after that nightmare, started another one when he dragged me to his cousin’s wedding. It’s a well known fact I hate weddings and this wedding did nothing to help that. The first problem was he evidently comes from a long line of whack-a-doodles. These people made the Adam’s Family look normal.

The second problem was him. He was drunk, loud and ridiculously rude to his family. I was mortified to be seen with him. He was such an ass at one point I ended up putting him on the floor. He spent the weekend acting like an obnoxious over grown child.

After that shit show I had every indentation of dumping him; however it was only 10 day until my birthday so I figured I’d wait until then, after what that asshole put me through I figured I deserved a present.......or a metal.

As much as I deserved it I never did get that present, 2 days before my birthday he dumped me. That’s right that sorry fucking excuse for a man dumped me! It would be a drastic understatement to say I was pissed. I wasn’t hurt, or heartbroken I was just plain old mad. After the way he acted who was he to dump me?

As if I wasn’t mad enough I found out he was planning to pop in and see me at my birthday party, a party I had been saying for month I didn’t want. But he and my best friend wouldn’t have any of it. I figure since we had broken up I could spend my birthday the way I wanted to....I was clearly mistaken.

To be fair up until the Grinch walked in I was having a wonderful time. Then he walked in and I actually saw red. After that I don’t remember anything until we were stood outside talking and he clearly said something I didn’t like because the next thing I knew I had punched him square in the jaw and he was falling in what felt like slow-motion. I do however remember afterwards feeling really cheated because he went down do easily. I wanted to kick the shit out of him. It was so disappointing, kind of like our relationship.

The real punch line is he was a personal trainer who had just come back from a boxing course......Guess they forgot to teach him to keep his hands up.

I got a lot of praise and few drinks for putting that asshole in his place. He use to walk around with a puffed chest and an over inflated ego. He couldn’t do that after getting beaten up by a girl.

As good as it felt; it kind of sucks that that’s my 21^st birthday memory. He stole that night from me, hell he stole all my birthdays from me. A birthday doesn’t pass without someone talking about my 21^st. On the bright side I did do something that a lot of women only dream of.

I told you about my birthday memory now it’s your turn to share yours, the good or the bad, let me hear them in the comment box below. And as always stay and drink tequila safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxoxo

Guest Post Dilemma

I’ve been working on a guest post (that I may never finish at this rate) for  thesexysinglemommy.net about how we all bitch and moan about wanting to find the elusive triple threat guy; a guy that’s not only nice and sweet but funny too, yet when we were in school we all over looked these sweet, funny guys in favor of guys, who in hindsight, were total douche bags.

Because I’m not a total hypocrite and like to heed some of my own advice, I messaged the guy who in my mind is the quintessential nice, sweet, funny guy that got over looked in school.

Besides the fact it took him a week to reply to me (which isn’t cool and almost caused a blog about us turning those nice guys into douche bags) it went ok. It was nice to catch up with him and there may have been a little harmless flirting going on. But after a couple of days messaging back and forth he vanished without a trace, and after two unanswered messages (which contained questions) and 8 days, I am declaring him officially dead.

Which leaves me with the problem of how to finish my guest post; did we turn all the nice guys into assholes? Maybe I just broke this one or maybe they just seemed so nice in school because the guys we were chasing were such fuckwits in comparison.

What do you guys think? I want to hear your opinions on this, leave your comment in the comment box below and as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxoxo

Judgey McJudge Pants

I am aware that when it comes to my exes I can be Judgey McJudge Pants but you tell me what you think.....

I told you guys last month about yet another one of my exes marring the girl he dated right after me. But then I found out something which I think is fucked up but I’ll let you decide for yourselves.

The guy who I am going to call Bert and the wife who I am going to call Ernie (because I can) aren’t living together. Bert’s still living at home with his mom and Ernie is living with her parents.

And before you say, "maybe they haven’t had a chance to move yet", no, there is no place lined up, hell they’re not even looking.

WHO DOES THAT????

“Oh, let’s get married and live like divorced people” What the fuck? I get that some people choose not to live together before marriage but the key word there is BEFORE. Once they’re married that separate living ends.

But maybe once again I’m being Judgey McJudge Pants let me know what your unbiased thoughts are in the comment box below. And as always my dears stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

Men Are Like Cabs

The older I get and the more I date the more I think Miranda (or the writer who wrote it) from Sex and The City is right

“Men are like cabs, when their available their light goes on. They awake one day and decide their ready to settle down, have babies, whatever, and they turn their light on. Next woman they pickup, boom, that' the one they'll marry. It's not fate, its dumb luck.” – Miranda

There are millions of websites out there that claim to know all the secrets to landing the perfect man and claim if you follow their easy steps you’ll find your soul mate in no time at all. Millions of websites telling women exactly what they want to heard instead of the truth.

The truth being: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE PERFECT GUY!

I am sorry Disney lied to you but the truth is it all boils down to timing and dumb luck!

I’ve dated a lot of guys who were nowhere near ready to settle down yet boom the next women they dated they married. Why? Because they went to bed one night and woke up the next morning with their light on.

It’s not that they were soul mates or because he wanted to change for her, or because she tamed him, it’s dumb luck. And in my case lucky luck because I know what I’ve dated and thank god that light wasn’t on (I must start making better choices).

So what do you guys think is there such a thing as soul mates or is it timing and dumb luck, (or in some cases an unplanned pregnancy) let me know what you think in the comment box below. And as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch

xoxoxo

Well Timed Stress

I’ve been telling you guys for years I’m weird and here’s another example of that. When most people get stressed or their head becomes...messy for lack of a better word; they drink or smoke or roll up in a ball and cry, I on the other hand bake.

When my mom was in hospital a few years back I baked everyday for 3 weeks, it’s how I put things out of my mind. Unlike blogging were you have to deal with things, baking is just about that recipe and making sure everything that goes in is perfect so the end result is delicious.  

When head messiness struck me this time I got lucky, it happened to be my step dad’s birthday so I got to channel all my head messiness into making his birthday cake. And because a normal cake is too easy (and I’m crazy) I decided to try and make my first ever shaped cake.

I’d call myself an above average baker but I’m no freaking decorator, I remind you of the cake I made my mom last year.

But I thought about it and decided a keg is a nice easy shape and shouldn’t be too hard to manage. So I gave it go; I don’t think the end result was too bad for my first attempt. I’m not in love with it but I’m sure my step dad will enjoy it....mainly because it tastes awesome. The major upside to shaped cakes is you get to eat some as cut it away so despite its looks I know it tastes good.

So that’s how I deal with stress and a “messy head”, what do you do? Let me know in the comment box below. And as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxoxo

Honest Reaction

I wasn’t going to post a blog today because in the wee hours of the morning my beloved Toronto Leafs clinched a playoff spot for the first time in 9 years. As far as I’m concerned today is a holiday......and possibly a sign of the apocalypse.

But then Mr. X announced over Facebook he’s engaged! In my opinion that calls for a blog.....and tequila not necessarily in that order. Hell I promise not in the order J

My initial reaction was lovely, I said to my friend “I wish them the best; I hope they’re blissfully married for 40 years” it didn’t stay lovely though, I followed that up with “then she runs off with the pool boy, breaking his fucking heart into millions of tiny pieces.” To quote myself exactly I followed that with “cheers”.

I never claimed to be nice, I’m making that clear but I’m honest. And my honest feeling is I hope she emotionally fucks him, the way he fucked me.

I know you’re not meant to say that out loud, I’m sorry but that’s how I feel. I don’t wish him any actual harm, mainly because that shit heals. I want something emotional that way every time he thinks he’s fine, some fucker can pull that scab off and bring it all back up to the surface again.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have some drinking to do, like I said my team made the playoffs and Mr. X is engaged, I’m pretty sure the apocalypse is coming. 

Punch Line

I have a song stuck in my head and it got me thinking; over time do we turn our exes into punch lines?

The song stuck in my head (don’t judge me) is Bridgit Mendler’s “Forgot to Laugh”.  It’s actually the chorus that’s stuck in my head and since I’m betting you haven’t heard of the song the chorus is:

“If you drive away

Hope you get a flat tire, get stranded

If it's goodbye today

Know you're leaving here empty handed

'Cause I got my own life

And you're just a punch line

If you go, you're a joke

I forgot to laugh”

It got me thinking about how over time, most breakups become funny stories; we weren’t laughing at the time but before long we tend to find a way to turn our exes into a punch line.

A while back I wrote a blog about an ex I turned gay, at the time; not funny. Now I can’t get through the story without laughing, it’s hilarious.

The Grinch was a horrible breakup but he became a punch line because for someone who taught boxing, the guy couldn’t take a punch.

Even an ex who I have no problem with (which is rare) is a punch line now because he married a girl that while we were dating he called “Barbie’s crack-head cousin.”

I can’t decide whether we turn them into punch lines to cope with the breakup or if these things were actually funny at the time but we were too distracted by temporary emotions that we simply “forgot to laugh”.

We all know breakups suck and getting dumped sucks even more but when it happens our world doesn’t end, we shake it off and get on with our lives. Yes, we may wish a little harm on our exes at first but before long we find ourselves smirking at the stupid things we hear they’re doing now. They become a walking, talking punch line.

So what do you think; were these things funny at the time or do we morph them into punch lines over time? Let me know in the comment box below. And as always stay and play safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch 

xoxoxo

2nd Enigma

Why do women get mad when men don’t notice they’ve had their hair done? 

Thoughts:  Women take great pride in their appearance. You only have to look at the effort they make in
comparison to men. As if to prove the point, every item of clothing I am wearing as I type this was the thing that was on top in each respective drawer. Between that, deodorant, aftershave and a touch of gel, I, like most men, have made an effort about as sophisticated as a crayon. Whereas a women does her hair, puts on various kinds of make up, tights over shaved legs and then walk on shoes with stilts attached at the back. It is a daily masterpiece that shouldn't look out of place on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel!

This is why I think a woman gets angry when we don't notice that she has had her hair done. It is her art, her work, her passion and we have been apathetic about it. It is like seeing the Mona Lisa and then sneezing on it. While Da Vinci was there. And he had just finished it. It is a royal kick in the teeth.

You see, women look good for three people. Other women, because it is a competition, sometimes friendly, sometimes vicious. They will notice that a woman has had her hair done because they know it is important. Then there is themselves. A woman takes pride in her appearance, something that men increasingly embrace but irritatingly to excessive levels. And indeed, men are the third group. Yet this shift from obsession with sports and beer to hair products and clothing labels hasn't taught us men an appreciation for the vanity game.

Women seem to think we should be more aesthetically savvy but we're not. That is why they get irritated more and more. They think we should know by now. That we should appreciate their effort to impress. So why do they get angry? Because they have forgotten that men are not that fussed about a woman's hair. After all, the question "Are you shaved?" isn't asked because every man is after Sinead O'Connor. You get me? (By Joel Sparks) 

Reality: There are a few reason why we get mad when you don’t notice we’ve had our hair done. The first being we assume you haven’t notice because you’re not paying attention to us. In our minds it’s hard to understand how it’s possible not to notice our hair is a different colour or that it’s 6 inches shorter. I mean if something was 6 inches shorter on your body I think we’d notice.

The second reason we get mad is because we partly do it for you! We don’t roll out of bed looking this way. It takes time and effort.  And when you don’t notice it feels like that time and effort was wasted. I swear the reason women post so many self pics to Facebook is because they spent 4 hours getting ready (hair, makeup, waxing, creams, sprays, lotions) and their other half barely looked up from the TV, so they settle for thumbs ups and comments from jealous women and horny men.

The third and final reason we get mad is, it’s not cheap. The average cost of a women’s hair cut is $45 and for some reason there is no exchange rate because in the UK the average price is £45. And that’s just to get it cut, if you want it coloured you’re talking a 100+. How would you like to spend over $100 on something that's attached to you and have nobody notice? That’s not a great feeling.  (By The Honest Bitch)

Enigma?: Apparently not, men seem to understand women on this one. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not about to change but at least they seem to understand what the fuss is about. Which I have to admit, I didn't think they would

So once again no enigma here, men do understand why women get angry when they fail to notice their hair. 

(I’m sorry for the delay in posting this installment of The Enigma Project, hit the link to check out the project so far. Also be sure to check out my writing partner’s (Joel Sparks) blog. Keep those questions coming in and thanks for reading)